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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22361287">all i want is real, real love</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohallows/pseuds/ohallows'>ohallows</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>tumblr prompts collection [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dancing, Domestic Fluff, Found Family, M/M, Team as Family</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-01-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-01-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 10:06:59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,876</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22361287</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohallows/pseuds/ohallows</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“ - wanna cut through the clouds, break the ceiling, I wanna dance on the roof, you and me alone - “</p><p>Zolf hums along absently as the radio in the corner plays softly; one of his favorite songs is on, but Hamid’s in the front room having a bit of a lie-down on the sofa, and Zolf doesn’t want to wake him up. He’s a bit hands-full at the moment. One hand is slowly stirring the pan with his alfredo sauce in it, which he’s keeping at a low temperature like he’s been taught, and the other is starting to delicately drop pasta into the pan of boiling water next to the sauce on the stovetop.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hamid Saleh Haroun al-Tahan/Zolf Smith</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>tumblr prompts collection [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1584370</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>48</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>all i want is real, real love</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>prompt: With Zolf, Hamid, &amp; Skraak  “we wanted to cook but now we are dramatically singing a duet with kitchen utensils in our hands, this is quality Performance™”</p><p>(isabelle was this you)</p><p>carly rae jepsen OBV it’s my BRAND!! jesus christ is this a song fic. did i finally write a song fic </p><p>modern au but it’s still pathfinder races and skraak is still a kobold bc i genuinely don’t know how to humanize him and make it work. also for fic purposes we’re going w skraak being like. a mostly nonverbal teenaged kobold so just. roll with it</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“ - </span>
  <em>
    <span>wanna cut through the clouds, break the ceiling, I wanna dance on the roof, you and me alone - “</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Zolf hums along absently as the radio in the corner plays softly; one of his favorite songs is on, but Hamid’s in the front room having a bit of a lie-down on the sofa, and Zolf doesn’t want to wake him up. He’s a bit hands-full at the moment. One hand is slowly stirring the pan with his alfredo sauce in it, which he’s keeping at a low temperature like he’s been taught, and the other is starting to delicately drop pasta into the pan of boiling water next to the sauce on the stovetop. All the pasta makes it in and he stirs that pot as well, tapping the wooden spoon on the edge of the pot and resting it on the counter next to him. It should be about fifteen minutes before everything will be ready, and then they can sit down and have dinner; the entire kitchen smells amazing, and Zolf’s proud of how the meal has been coming together. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He feels a tapping on his hip and glances down. Skraak is standing there looking at what he’s making, head tilted curiously. Their claws start to inch forward, presumably to dip in the sauce and get a taste. Zolf intercepts them before they can make it with a sigh. “Not yet, Skraak. Still hot. Don’t want you to burn yourself - wait, do - you’re a kobold, can you burn yourself!m? Or is that just - no, you know, nevermind, it doesn’t actually matter, just - please don’t stick your claws in the sauce. Okay?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Skraak gives him a bit of a disappointed, betrayed look, and Zolf sighs. Gods. He grabs a piece of bread and dips it in the sauce, which is slowly starting to bubble, and hands it over to them. “Fine. Don’t let Hamid see, I won’t ever live it down.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Skraak!” they say, giving him a salute before shoving the bread into their mouth and making a content noise. They hum a bit and wander away, starting to head down the hallway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oi - Skraak!” Zolf whisper-yells after them, and they turn, looking confused. “Don’t wake Hamid, yeah?” They bob their head and scurry off, probably heading to where Hamid is. Zolf supposes he shouldn’t be surprised. Hamid’s got draconic heritage, which is a fun thing to learn about someone you’re currently dating, especially when they’re just learning about it too. It explains a couple things, definitely; like how Hamid hoards every single sweater Zolf has ever owned - which, honestly, it just makes Zolf’s heart swell a bit every time he sees Hamid in his clothes. But it’s not surprising that Skraak almost compulsively prefers to be around Hamid. Hamid’s a bit better at sign than Zolf is anyways, so it’s easier for them to communicate with him than with Zolf, although Zolf’s learning more every day. Sasha’s helping teach him, as well, and it involves both a lot more and a lot less knife-oriented words than he’d expect. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“ - </span>
  <em>
    <span>to emotion, I want to go all the way, show me devotion and take me all the way, all the way, all the way, all the way </span>
  </em>
  <span>-“ </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s so focused on making the sauce that he doesn’t hear Hamid pad into the room, but he definitely feels Hamid press against him, arms wrapping securely around his waist. Hamid presses his forehead into Zolf’s back and sighs, content.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Smells nice,” he says, and Zolf smiles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Morning, Hamid. Did Skraak wake you up?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, they didn’t,” Hamid mumbles, face pressed against Zolf’s back. “But they were just staring at me when I did.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The song changes and Zolf smiles, laughing. “They like you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“ - </span>
  <em>
    <span>you know what I mean, if you just give me a chance, you’d see what I see</span>
  </em>
  <span> - “</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I like them, and they’re wonderful,” Hamid says. “Right, Skraak?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Skraak!” they say, and Zolf glances over to see them signing something quickly to Hamid. He can’t pick it up completely, but recognizes the sign for ‘dinner’ and something else that Sasha keeps signing at Bertie, even if he doesn’t know the meaning. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hamid signs something back; Zolf can’t see, since he’s standing behind him, but Skraak makes a low rumble in their chest that he and Hamid are pretty sure is their version of laughter. They have a bit of a conversation in sign, Hamid switching near-flawlessly between that and draconic, which sounds both completely out of place and completely suitable in his voice. Zolf is content to just listen as Skraak’s claws click against each other and feel Hamid’s laughter against his back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The song skips to the next and Hamid perks up - it’s one of </span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span> favorites, which feels like kismet at this point, and he laughs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Zolf, we have to dance,” Hamid says, standing up on his tiptoes to give Zolf his best cajoling stare. “We always do, it’s in the flat rules!” Zolf knows it isn’t, because he wrote them himself and abjectly vetoed Hamid’s suggestion for that. “Come on?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“ - </span>
  <em>
    <span>stuck in my head, stuck on my heart, stuck on my body, body, I wanna go, get out of here, I'm sick of the party, party</span>
  </em>
  <span> - “</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hamid starts pulling at his waist, trying to tug him away from the stove, but Zolf just shakes his head as Hamid pouts. “Sorry, the sauce is almost done cooking, it’s just a bit of a delicate process right now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Boooooo,” Hamid nearly whines, but he doesn’t back away from Zolf. “But then the song will be over and we won’t have time!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, love,” Zolf says, more than a little distracted. “After dinner, maybe?” He turns down the burner a bit more, carefully stirring the sauce as he adds the parmesan cheese to it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hamid only shifts his hands up so that he’s veritably hanging from Zolf’s neck, down his back. It’s not tight at all, not in the slightest, but it’s clear that Hamid isn’t going to give up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hamid, this is going to </span>
  <em>
    <span>burn </span>
  </em>
  <span>-“ Zolf says, pressing a kiss to both of Hamid’s hands even as he unwinds them from around his neck. Hamid sticks his tongue out at him but does finally take a step back as Skraak shuffles up to him. Skraak tugs on the edges of Hamid’s shirt and makes a comically exaggerated frowny face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Skraak, he </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> being grumpy, but that’s just Zolf,” Hamid stage-whispers, but he sends Zolf a wink and Zolf rolls his eyes, fond. He knows Hamid isn’t being serious, and wants nothing more than to step away and scoop him up, but he really </span>
  <em>
    <span>does </span>
  </em>
  <span>have to pay attention to the sauce. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on, Skraak!” Hamid encourages, grabbing the kobold and swinging them around in a circle as they chitter excitedly. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>We </span>
  </em>
  <span>can dance, right?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not - okay -“ Zolf mumbles, stirring the sauce. It’s nearly done, but he’s butchered an alfredo sauce before and he doesn’t want to make the same mistake as he had. It barely even has that much time left, and he’s so close to letting it be done without melting the cheese too quickly or curdling the cream. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Behind him, Hamid is singing along to the song; he has a wonderful voice, really, and Zolf can’t help but hum along as the music builds. He puts the spoon down on the counter and ducks over to the spice cabinet real quick. It smells amazing, but something still seems like it’s missing… he thinks he knows how to fix it, and grabs a few different bottles from the cabinet. He gets back to the stove, successfully avoiding Hamid and Skraak - the kitchen really is tiny - and eyeballs it as he adds the spices to the sauce. He reaches down to the counter, but his hands just meet the counter and empty air. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where - where’s my spoon?” he mutters distractedly, turning around quickly and seeing Hamid dancing with it in his hands, singing into it like it’s a microphone as Skraak yells something in draconic into a whisk. Zolf leans over and plucks the spoon out of Hamid’s hand, trading it with a random spatula he grabbed from the counter before Hamid gives him a betrayed glance. Zolf gives him a quick smile, and then it’s back to the sauce, stirring it slowly. Should be nearly there now, he realizes, and whacks it down a bit lower before pulling it off the heat entirely and letting it sit. He checks the pasta and it seems ready, so he turns the stove off and wipes his hands on a nearby towel. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“ - </span>
  <em>
    <span>your hero and win it, when the lights go out… run away with me</span>
  </em>
  <span> - ” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He feels a hand tug on his arm and turns to see Hamid standing there. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please?” Hamid asks, eyes wide, and god, he </span>
  <em>
    <span>knows </span>
  </em>
  <span>what he’s doing, Zolf knows he does, but he’s never been able to resist Hamid anyway, so he lets him pull him away, eyes sparkling. The sauce is done, anyway, and the dinner will keep for a bit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Skraak cheers when Zolf finally joins them, and Hamid takes the spoon back as he and Skraak belt out the lyrics to the song. Hamid takes Zolf’s hand in his and Zolf pulls Hamid closer, swaying with him until Hamid dances away and pulls Skraak into their little circle, all swaying together. Zolf doesn’t sing, but he does hum along, pressing a kiss to Hamid’s cheek. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The doorbell rings, and Zolf takes a minute to answer it, nearly dragging Hamid along when he won’t let go of his hand. The door is barely opened before Cel crashes into his chest, tightly squeezing him in a hug as they chatter away about the drive and the weather and this new experiment they’re working on. Skraak appears in the doorway and they gasp, running over to them and leaving Zolf behind. Azu is next, bending down and hugging him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you for inviting us over,” she says, smiling, and Zolf gives her a wink.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Had to have someone else here so Hamid doesn’t eat all of it,” he jokes, ignoring Hamid’s faux-offended ‘hey!’ from the kitchen. Azu laughs quietly and heads in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grizzop follows close behind. “Wotcher,” he greets, and Zolf gives him a nod. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good to see you, Grizzop. How’s things?” Zolf asks, but Grizzop just shrugs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Could be better, could be worse. Might have a project for you and Azu to help with, though, if you’re interested?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zolf nods; work at the clinic has been down recently, taking on something new wouldn’t be a problem. “Yeah, sure, we - we can talk about it after dinner?” Grizzop nods and heads off into the kitchen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sasha’s the last one to come in, hands in her pockets. She pats Zolf on the shoulder, about as much contact as she allows normally. “All right, boss?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Sasha,” he greets - it’s really no use arguing about the boss thing anymore. “Dinner’s on through the kitchen. Made your favorite.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her eyes light up as she pads away, moving through his flat like she doesn’t want to be caught, and Zolf follows behind, watching as everyone laughs and teases each other in the kitchen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His family is </span>
  <em>
    <span>here</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and Zolf couldn’t be happier. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I FORGOT TO PUT A JOKE IN THE FIC the joke was that skraak signed ‘dinner smells good’ but in the sign language syntax obv and zolf recognized but couldn’t identify ‘smells’ bc sasha always signs it at bertie</p><p>requests are open! hmu at ohallows w any prompts; comments and kudos are appreciated</p></blockquote></div></div>
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